Strictly Speaking
by satan-chillin
Summary: Crowley was fully aware for a while now that he was feeling that four-letter word that started with L towards Aziraphale. He didn't need the Blaupunkt and some bloody lyrics to rub it to his face. Wherein the Blaupunkt could somehow read what Crowley was thinking and would play an appropriate song for it.


Crowley should have noticed something was wrong with the Blaupunkt when it kept turning on by itself without his influence.

The first time it happened was during his store run for a good bottle of brandy* to share with the angel, Crowley thought it was Hell trying to make a connection, and these days that equated to them trying to pin his exact location while he was lying low, which was Bad with a capital B. He should have known their little swap stunt would hardly buy them a century of peace and quiet.

*They needed a little variety at times.

Crowley held off on that thought when Freddy Mercury didn't speak but some song with lyrics that kept saying _Brandy __[1]_. He might have heard it somewhere but not within the Bentley for sure. When the song finished without any sort of voice from Below blending with the singer, Crowley turned the Blaupunkt off tentatively.

Alright, so it was odd, but nothing to worry about when nothing happened afterward.

The next time it happened was more concerning especially since Aziraphale was there the moment it occurred, talking about something or another, and Crowley was listening purely out of the sound of the angel's voice and found out yet again that, yes, he was fond of it. At first, he thought it was about the voices of angels in general, but then again Gabriel's—most especially Gabriel—never held that kind of appeal to him.

Fine. It was solely because of Aziraphale.

The speakers then blared a mellow tune that Crowley was most definitely sure didn't belong to any Queen song. Aziraphale stopped speaking and tilted his head curiously, not noticing Crowley willing the player off and failing miserably even with muting the speakers.

_So true funny how it seems_

_Always in time, but never in line for dreams_

_Head over heels when toe to toe_

_This is the sound of my soul_

_This is the sound_

Crowley would have kicked the Blaupunkt for playing an icky banal song, if not for Aziraphale clearly liking the tune. Hell couldn't have chosen such a sappy song that an angel would enjoy.*

*Unless it was meant to torment Crowley, but then again his peers Down There weren't known for that kind of creativity.

"Oh, this is not one of your Bebop," Aziraphale commented by chorus. He looked oddly pleased. "That man has a mellifluous voice. Who is he?"

Crowley could only grunt. "Dunno. Mozart, probably."

"Well, he sounds young here."

Aziraphale hummed lowly along, and Crowley was forced to endure the five-minute song since the angel apparently liked it.

Crowley found that he was unable to deny Aziraphale anything since like, eons ago, though certain realizations were only becoming more and more prominent as of late.

He wasn't equipped to dwell on these for now.

_Oh, I want the truth to be said_

_I know this much is true_

_I know this much is true_

_This much is true_

_This much is true_

_This much is true __[2]_

Crowley quietly drove and dropped Aziraphale to his bookstore. If he was a little dismissive when he refused the offer of wine, he hoped that the angel didn't read too much on it. Crowley sent him a mock salute then drove away after seeing Aziraphale up to his door and was bidden a good night, all the while thinking he should have said something.

Maybe he did want the truth to be said. Maybe not.

It wasn't the business of some bloody song.

_Darling you got to let me know_

_Should I stay or should I go?_

_If you say that you are mine_

_I'll be here 'til the end of time_

_So you got to let me know_

_Should I stay or should I go?_

If the Bentley and everything in it weren't special to him, he would have smashed the Blaupunkt when it belted another song that seemingly came out of nowhere—his personal Hell, probably.

_Should I stay or should I go now?_

_Should I stay or should I go now?_

_If I go, there will be trouble_

_And if I stay it will be double_

_So come on and let me know __[3]_

Crowley blessed under his breath.

* * *

Puzzled as he might be, Crowley wasn't one to sit around while his Blaupunkt was afflicted with a sickness of terrible music. No doubt that it didn't happen often.*

*He was right, though it didn't mean that it was impossible. There was one case in America, 1996 where a '67 Impala communicated through the car radio with its two human owners who were brothers. The brothers, known investigators of the supernatural at that time, managed to solve a case with the help of their talking Impala. The Impala might have spoken about its taste for Air Supply's _All Out Of Love._

After thinking for the whole evening previous what could be wrong with his Blaupunkt, Crowley arrived at the conclusion that there was faulty wiring in it. He did a diagnosis and detected no infernal influence interfering with his control over it and the Bentley in general. He was at least relieved that it wasn't Hell establishing a connection.

The even bigger mystery was how it was seemingly connected to him, his thought process in particular. He recalled how a song about brandy had played the first time while he was craving for that specific swill. Then there was when Aziraphale was riding shotgun, which he almost always did but only yesterday did the player spouted a mawkish song while with him. And to think Crowley's mood was connected to it and could read his mind when he was having these… these... Thoughts.

_Oh can't you see_

_You belong to me_

_My poor heart aches_

_With every step you take_

_Every move you make_

_Every vow you break_

_Every smile you fake_

_Every claim you stake_

_I'll be watching you __[4]_

Crowley groaned and the cringed when the lyrics turned into a mildly disturbing note of watching someone 24/7.

_I will drive past your house_

_And if the lights are all down_

_I'll see who's around_

_One way or another, I'm gonna find ya_

_I'm gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya __[5]_

It was a woman's voice now that sang a rather worrying song about stalking. Crowley didn't know whether to be impressed with these songwriters and wondered if he whispered the concept to a couple of artists before.

Crowley couldn't shut the speakers up, but he could will it to change. He thought hard of something random, something that there couldn't be any song of if there was even any.

Ha! He thought triumphantly. Food, then. While Crowley wasn't under the illusion that there weren't some—he really has to hand it to these humans; their creativity was astounding—there were very few, if he recalled correctly, and they were more partial to fruits and sweets.

"Pasta," Crowley said smugly to the Blaupunkt. "Heh. You don't have songs about pasta."

The Blaupunkt, the gall of it, played the national anthem _[6]_ of every pasta sauce advertisement. Crowley wasn't even thinking about the sauce!

"Cheek," he groused.

* * *

Crowley wasn't looking forward to another round of stupid romantic songs when Aziraphale found himself in the passenger's seat once again; therefore, the safest move was to take a deep breath and keep his mind carefully blank.

Easier said than done.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale suddenly asked. "You're awfully quiet. Are you alright?"

"Fine and dandy. Why won't I be?" Crowley answered distractedly, a little unconvincing, glancing warily at the Blaupunkt. It remained quiet for a few minutes after he spoke, and Crowley let out a breath that he wasn't aware he was holding.

Aziraphale apparently noticed the look. "Is something the matter with the player?" he tried again.

"Psh. Nah."

"Oh. That's… good," Aziraphale said, mostly to himself. "Good."

Crowley should have left it at that. He shouldn't have, say, looked at the side to meet Aziraphale watching him with concerned blue eyes.

_Hey you with the pretty face_

_Welcome to the human race_

_A celebration, Mr. Blue Sky's up there waitin'_

_And today is the day we've waited for __[7]_

Mr. Blue Sky? Really? Crowley was surprised he recognized it, although it wasn't exactly spot on.

"What, no song about blue eyes specifically?" he hissed, taunting the Blaupunkt.

"Dear, why on earth are you reprimanding your radio?"

Bollocks. "I don't," Crowley muttered shortly, looking away.

He heard a sigh from Aziraphale, though he didn't pry any further and didn't speak until they arrived by the bookshop. "Would you like to drop by?" Aziraphale offered. "I have a new bottle of red that I got yesterday, and I'm wondering if you'd like to, ah, share it. With me." The volume of his voice went lower and uncharacteristically uncertain. "That is, if only you'd like to."

Crowley frowned behind his sunglasses. Why the hell was Aziraphale fidgeting by a mere question? 'If only you'd like to'—of course he did!

Hey, any kind of reason to spend more time with the angel was a valid reason.

_What I want, you've got_

_And it might be hard to handle_

_But like the flame that burns the candle_

_The candle feeds the flame, yeah yeah __[8]_

"Alright, that's enough. I'm coming."

* * *

"The Blaupunkt is being obs—obsti—stupid," Crowley slurred on his fifth glass.

Aziraphale looked sympathetic. "Is it ill? Poor thing." He hiccupped.

"Don't sym—sympa—pity it," Crowley muttered. "I hate it. I hate it now."

"That's terribly rude to say," Aziraphale mumbled. "You love it."

"Back when it knows how to play good music. Recently? Uh uh."

Aziraphale considered his glass for a second, drifting away from the conversation before remembering to ask: "What's the matter?"

Crowley mumbled incoherently.

"Pardon?"

"Plays stupid music. Bloody maudlin songs."

"Oh." Aziraphale took a drink. "Is that so bad? I did like the change."

"I don't," Crowley said darkly. "'sides, it only plays those when…" he trailed off, frowning. "You know."

"I don't know, dear," came the angel's voice quietly.

Crowley blearily stared at him. "You know, when I suddenly think of something cheesy and there's bloody corresponding lyrics for it."

A beat. Aziraphale blinked, seemingly sober in an instant. "Oh. That's… That's fascinating. Like in the movies, yes?*"

*Azirpahale had heard of Disney movies with singing princesses. The thought was a bit incongruous, and somehow he wondered if a part of his slightly inebriated mind imagined Crowley as one of those singing princesses. It wouldn't look so bad, Aziraphale knew. Crowley's Nanny Ashtoreth's disguise had looked agreeable to him.

"I suppose."

"Specifically what kind of thoughts were you thinking?" Aziraphale asked curiously, and Crowley's mouth opened to answer that.

He was, fortunately, in the right mind to realize that, yup, it was time to drain all that alcohol out.

Crowley had never been this sober quickly. It made him fairly dizzy, a bitter tang in his tongue clinging strongly than usual. The angel mimicked the gesture at a deliberate pace.

"Right," Crowley said, standing once his vision cleared and before Aziraphale could bring up the topic. "Gotta go. Bounce.*"

*Crowley quite liked that American street slang.

"So soon?"

Crowley was aware that he was culpable for the angel's obvious disappointment. Wasn't his intention now, was it?

"Early morning and all that." Not that he needed sleep, and Aziraphale was clearly to point that one out before Crowley had beaten him to it with a hasty retreat. "Ciao."

"Crowley," Aziraphale called before Crowley could completely escape. By the tone of his voice, Crowley was forced to turn around and regretted that he did when he found the angel close, within the proximity that he was prepared for. "Have you heard from your superiors lately?"

"No." At least Crowley wasn't lying on that one. "Have you?" he asked cautiously.

"No. Thankfully."

"Thankfully," Crowley parroted, glancing away because, wow, personal space and all that. Not that Crowley minded. Not at all. But it was only him. So.

So… Huh. Since when was Aziraphale's hand on him?

"You'll tell me if you're in trouble, of course? I mean, I know we already are with the Apocalypse, but the consequences, yes? I'll tell you too."

"'course," Crowley said, a tad distracted by the way Aziraphale was moving his fingers absently. "Of course," he tried again, only that his voice sounded strangled.

This was one of those events that could be classified as Bad with a capital B.

Crowley did the only thing he was good at aside from tempting: he escaped.

Once within the safety of his Bentley, he slumped his back against the leather, wanting to tune out the song that started without his permission.

_There's something about her hand holding mine_

_It's a feeling that's fine_

_And I just gotta say_

_She's really got a magical spell_

_And it's working so well_

_That I can't get away __[9]_

Crowley looked up and saw Aziraphale still standing by the entrance. When Crowley started the engine, the angel gave a slight wave. It was pretty much all it took these days for Crowley to feel utterly foolish.

Darn it.

_I'll get over you I know I will_

_I'll pretend my ship's not sinking_

_And I'll tell myself I'm over you_

_'Cause I'm the king of wishful thinking_

_I am the king of wishful thinking __[10]_

* * *

At some point in the midst of the bizarrely-wired Blaupunkt, tempting here and there, dining with Aziraphale with the angel's looming concern that he didn't voice the second time, feeding the ducks with him, thinking that Aziraphale was special in more ways than one, and waiting for the day to end to rinse and repeat—nothing much to do when you were an immortal being who wasn't in the good books of his employers after thwarting the major project they've been working on with the opposing side for a couple of millennia—Crowley began thinking what was the matter with him in the first place.

There was no Apocalypse to fret over, Hell would be off his back for a while, and Aziraphale… Aziraphale didn't look oppose, per se.

Crowley was being a prat, plainly speaking.

Around each other for 6,000 years and stuck together through thick and thin, even through the sodding Apocalypse. They've seen it all together perhaps.

And maybe, maybe that was it. It was the transition that Crowley feared.

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever_

_I said there is no reason for my fear_

_'Cause I feel so secure when we're together_

_You give my life direction_

_You make everything so clear __[11]_

"Right about that, pal," Crowley said to nobody in particular.

He wasn't one for affection, but he couldn't resist giving the Blaupunkt a pat.

* * *

The thing about epiphany was that it often came in the least expected humdrum of a moment. In Crowley's case, it wasn't completely unexpected when his daily life fell into a routine that surprisingly he has no problem of.

"Ducks don't mate for life, don't they?" Crowley said as if he remembered something foul. He understood that humans weren't all inclined to fidelity, which was why they were easy to temp, but ducks? They were supposed to be monogamous! "Unacceptable."

"It is," Aziraphale agreed amiable, half-amused if Crowley chose to observe closely. "Blasphemous."

Crowley grunted thoughtfully, throwing a handful of corn to the _polygamous buggers._

"Don't bully them much," Aziraphale reminded him. "Here. One at a time."

When Azirphale picked three and threw them consequently, hitting the male duck squarely on its head as if divinely punishing it for leaving its mate, Crowley knew that he was in it, The Pit—not Lucifer's Pit, mind, something else deeper where Crowley was already falling in for thousands of years.

But certainly not that kind of Falling that Crowley was against with.

Shite.

"There." Aziraphale sounded satisfied with his accomplishment as if he didn't just hit one of God's creatures. "All done."

"Wasn't that going to be a strike on your pristine record?"

"It could be unless I say that I was tempted and nobody's the wiser."

If Crowley looked like the ground just gave away under him and felt like he was overstuffed with all these gushy things than he wasn't supposed to have,* using Aziraphale's words: nobody was the wiser.

*Actually, there was a twinkling in his eyes too that was hidden by the sunglasses.

"Real holy of you."

Aziraphale sighed wistfully and gave a small smile. "Yes, I learned from the best."

Somewhere, Crowley knew that the Blaupunkt was blasting on its speakers something along the lines of:

_And we can build this thing together_

_Stand this stormy weather_

_Nothings gonna stop us now_

_And if this world runs out of lovers_

_We'll still have each other_

_Nothing's gonna stop us_

_Nothing's gonna stop us now __[12]_

Thinking about it, nothing was stopping Crowley, to be honest.

"You mind hopping back in the Bentley now?"

"You have somewhere in mind?" Aziraphale asked once they began walking.

"Aside from inside the Bentley, nothing, but we'll think of something."

Contrary to his imagination, the Blaupunkt was quiet once they were both inside the vehicle, though it promised to be an appropriate intermediary with the right timing and mood.

"Where are we going?" Aziraphale tried again.

_Daydream, I dreamed of you amid the flowers_

_For a couple of hours, such a beautiful day!_

_I dreamed of the places I've been with you_

_How we sat with the stream flowing by __[13]_

Crowley smirked.

* * *

It was as clichéd as those horribly sentimental films that attempted to explore the concept of endearment like they understood the idea fully. Or maybe they did, in their own interpretation, because what was a demon to know of it better?

"How quaint," Aziraphale commented, and he appeared to be glowing with the way the light of the setting sun was hitting him in the right angle. "But a pleasant change of scenery nonetheless."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, feeling a curious mix of awe and wonder. "Not going to ask what brought this on?"

"I assume the radio has something to do with it."

_Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?_

_Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

_They say in heaven, love comes first_

_We'll make heaven a place on earth_

_Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

"And the lovely music as well. Am I correct?"

Crowley snorted. "You're rarely wrong, angel."

"Why thank you."

_In this world we're just beginning_

_To understand the miracle of living_

_Baby, I was afraid before_

_But I'm not afraid anymore __[14]_

Crowley swallowed. He wouldn't say he was no longer afraid, but, oh well, here goes nothing.

"Angel? I, uh—" Crowley cleared his throat. "You know, I—"

"Shh, dear," Aziraphale shushed him gently. "Let's listen to the music, shall we? You do have an amazing collection after all."

Crowley was ready to protest, though he fell silent when a hand covered his, and, well, that was one way to do so effectively.

_This will be_

_An everlasting love_

_This will be_

_The one I've waited for_

_This will be_

_The first time anyone has loved me, oh oh oh_

He turned his palm over and entwined their fingers together. This… This was fine too.

_I'm so glad_

_He found in time_

_And I'm so glad that_

_He rectified my mind_

_This will be_

_An everlasting love for me, whoa, ho_

Aziraphale squeezed and Crowley made the same gesture back, and he wished he could say it was simply an automatic response. Fortunately, he was too far gone for a simple explanation.

_Loving you_

_Is some kind of wonderful_

_Because you've shown me_

_Just how much you care_

_You've given me the thrill of a lifetime_

_And made me believe you've got more thrills to spare, oh_

They would be alright.

_This will be_

_And everlasting love, oh, yes, it will now_ _[15]_

* * *

Somewhere, a boy smiled and snapped his fingers.

All was right again in the world.

* * *

_**fin**_

* * *

The music, in order of appearance:

1\. Brandy (You're A Fine Girl) by Looking Glass

2\. True by Spandau Ballet

3\. Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash

4\. Every Breath You Take by The Police

5\. One Way or Another by Blondie

6\. La Donna È Mobile (Rigoletto) by Giuseppe Verdi

7\. Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra

8\. You Make My Dreams by Hall & Oates

9\. Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse

10\. King Of Wishful Thinking by Go West

11\. I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore by REO Speedwagon

12\. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now by Starship

13\. Day Dream by Wallace Collection

14\. Heaven Is a Place on Earth by Belinda Carlisle

15\. This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) by Natalie Cole


End file.
